


The Arc of Ascension, Saga 6: A Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall

by bzarcher, solarbird



Series: Of Gods and Monsters [42]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anticipation, Bisexual Character, Bisexual Female Character, F/F, F/M, Fear, Healing, Long-Distance Relationship, Nepal (Overwatch), Overwatch Nepal, Past Relationship(s), Plans, Recovery, Relationship(s), Volskaya Industries (Overwatch), adjustments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 17:04:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15344439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher, https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarbird/pseuds/solarbird
Summary: The new gods have risen, ready, at last, to grapple with a world of heroes. Moira O'Deorain herself has been reborn, now made one of the creations her previous self meant to rule, and she works with her wife - the goddess Mercy - and their ensemble of new deities to remake the world, toimproveit... for everyone.As Talon - or, now, really, Oasis - rebuilds itself from within, Overwatch, too, works to pick up its pieces, as winter ends, and summer approaches.Of Gods and Monsters: The Arc of Ascensionis a continuance ofOf Gods and Monsters: The Arc of Creation, a side-step sequel toThe Armourer and the Living Weapon. It will be told in a series of eddas, sagas, interludes, fragments, texts, and cantos, all of which serve their individual purposes. To follow it as it appears,please subscribe to the series.





	The Arc of Ascension, Saga 6: A Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall

_[Nepal - Late March, 2078]_

Winter held long in the mountains, a basic fact about the world which could not be denied. It could only be endured, as people had been doing for thousands of years. But the temperatures finally began to rise, the gentle rains of spring encouraging planting before the heavier monsoons would begin in a few months' time.

Today, the skies had cleared, and Hanzo had taken advantage of the break in the weather to hike in the valley near the Shambali monastery, pushing himself through the trails and scaling his way up rocks and crags until he’d found an area clear enough to train properly, one with an added bonus - a commanding view of the mountain range.

He valued the peace he found here in the serenity of the high valleys. He also valued the privacy he could not expect down in the village, or amongst the monks. Such privacy had its uses - several, really, but one in particular.

“It’s so beautiful there,” Mei sighed happily as she took in the view through the camera in Hanzo’s padd. “I never got to see it in the spring!”

He finished showing her the view, then found a comfortably flat rock to sit down on as he activated the front facing camera. “I hadn’t realized you'd visited Nepal before.” 

Mei nodded, the Berlin skyline visible behind her from the windows of her hotel room. “I was part of a team gathering data on altitudinal changes and permafrost levels in the Himalaya, back when I was working on my doctorate.” Her smile turned a bit wistful. “I really hoped we might find a yeti while we were there, but we didn’t have any luck!”

Hanzo chuckled, smiling back at her. “Perhaps, if you are able to visit, we can try again.”

“I’d like that,” Mei admitted shyly. “I’ve almost finished this round of presentations and conferences. I was planning on taking a trip to gather some valuable data, afterwards - or, at least, data I hope is valuable. It is certainly important.”

The archer nodded. He didn't understand the science, but he understood the ramifications, certainly. “More of the biocapacity markers?” 

"Yes." Mei nodded, then smiled, a bit nervously. “I was thinking about whether you’d like to get dinner with me. And of what sort of things you’ve been doing with the Shambali. Where you’ve traveled. Where you want to go, when...”

"It would be... I would very much enjoy seeing you again." Hanzo felt his face growing warm. “There are very few places for a private dinner in the monastery... but perhaps you could follow me up the mountain, and see this place with your own eyes.”

“I’d like that,” Mei answered. “Don’t worry about me keeping up, either. I’m tougher than I look!”

“After following some of your exploits,” Hanzo assured her, “I had no doubt of that.” He wet his lips, considering how to broach the next subject. “I have been wondering... how you were feeling.”

“I’m…” Mei shook her head. “It’s hard. I’m trying not to think about the letters Angela has sent me, and focusing on my work with colleagues I _do_ trust. I'm trying to understand what’s changed - I’m almost certain Oasis is involved, possibly leveraging Vishkar. But I do not see how! I have even sent postdocs to some of their developments, as discreetly as I can, but there's only so much we can examine without tipping our hands, and...”

“That is what you have been _doing_ ,” Hanzo pointed out quietly. “Not how you feel.”

Mei hesitated for a moment, and then slumped, just a little. “Lonely,” she admitted. “Scared. I…” She looked down at the desk, then back at the camera. “Like when I want to have a drink. Or, a lot of drinks. It's hard. But, when it gets bad, I’ve been trying to send someone a message, instead, or look for some work to do. There is _always_ work to do.”

“You have been handling it better than I did, after…” He grimaced. “After I left my clan. I am proud of you.” 

Mei’s smile broadened, lighting up her entire face. “That means a lot.” An alarm beeped, and she sighed. “I’m speaking to a luncheon at the _Forschungsgemeinschaft_. I should finish getting dressed.”

Hanzo nodded. “Then I will look forward to when we speak again.” 

“It’ll be soon,” Mei promised, then ended the call.

He’d noticed early on that she didn’t enjoy saying ‘goodbye.’ Hanzo could understand that, now.

Smiling, he slipped the padd back into the pouch on his belt, and had been about to stand and start his journey back to the monastery when the soft scrape of metal on stone made him turn, his hands coming up into a guard by reflex.

Genji dropped to the ground from the stone he’d been perched on, the light of his visor flaring as he straightened up. 

“So,” he asked, and even though the mask concealed his face, Hanzo knew exactly how his brother was smiling by the teasing tone in his voice. “How is your girlfriend?”

\-----

_[Sweden - Early April, 2078]_

“Packing already?” 

Torbjörn turned with a weary sigh and a nod. “Afraid so.” 

Ingrid stepped inside their bedroom before she pushed the door closed with her foot. “Here, then, let me help.” He ducked out her way as she went to examine his open suitcase, tutting at the contents.

“For a man so proud of efficiency, Torby, your packing is always such a mess.” 

“It’s not _that_ bad,” he grumbled as he watched his wife methodically unpack everything he’d done before she began again. 

Ingrid smiled as she leaned over to kiss his forehead. “It really is.” 

Torbjörn rolled his eyes, then settled into one of his chairs so he’d be out of the way. “I swear you do this just to keep me here a bit longer.”

“Of course I do,” Ingrid said sincerely. “I’ll steal every minute I can get - especially since I’ll spend the rest of the time worrying for you.”

He sighed, bowing his head. “You don’t _have_ to worry! I’ll have Reinhardt. That’s _his_ job.” 

“Oh, and that’s better, is it?” Ingrid rolled her eyes as she briskly folded and rolled clothes, packing them in tightly to make sure she got the most packed for the least space. “I worry about _both_ of you, eel head!” She shook her head, her voice dropping. “All three of you. Or four now, I suppose…” She looked out the window and Torbjörn followed her gaze to the compound’s back yard, where the ‘newest’ member of their family was carefully stomping between rows of vegetables.

“Brigitte will be fine,” he tried to reassure her, and if he said it enough times he hoped he’d start to believe it, too. “We’ll both have an eye out for her, and so will Hana and their boyfriend.” 

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “I notice you didn’t say anything about Bastion. Who looks after _him?_ ”

“The bird,” Torbjörn smiled as he gestured outside, “obviously.”

As if on cue, the war machine’s pet bird landed on Bastion’s outstretched finger, cheerfully warbling a song that Bastion did his best to imitate using his industrial signaler.

They shared a laugh over that before Ingrid snapped the suitcase closed, sliding it down to the floor before she settled down on the bed, silently inviting him to join her. 

“You could say no,” she murmured as he leaned against her. “Just this once. It’s been almost _forty years_ , Torby. Haven’t you done enough?”

“I wish I could,” he sighed, and kissed his wife gently. “But you heard what Jack told us. You _saw_ what they did to Angela. And they’ll keep going unless someone stands up and says no.”

“And that’s why you need Bastion, too?” 

Torbjörn nodded. “Far as we can tell, they can bugger up human minds and memories, but an omnic? No. Much as I hate to admit it, the big rustbucket might just save our lives.”

“He deserves a rest too,” Ingrid murmured. “ _All_ of you do. But I suppose that’s not the world we have, is it?”

“No,” he agreed. “But that’s why we try to make a better one, every day.” 

Ingrid pulled him in for another kiss, the braided plaits of his beard brushing against her chin, then hugged him tight. “Will you come home for Midsummer?”

“If we can,” he promised, “but if I can’t…” His hand found hers, and squeezed tight. “Don’t forget I love you, Inna.” 

“Never have,” she promised as she kissed him again, “and never will.”

\-----

_[Late April, 2078 - one week after the Concordat]_

"They're free actors, then. You're sure of it," Morrison said from Overwatch Nepal, a small outpost built next to their two remaining fully-functional Orcas, not far from the Sanctum of the Shambali.

They'd found time to build a more permanent site instead of working from the monastery and ships, once a few other former Overwatch personnel managed to track them down, answering the recall, prompted by the events in London, late, but finally present. Small, but sturdy, mostly built from prefabricated modular units salvaged from other Overwatch bases, the bulk of the material had been taken from Gibraltar, once it had become clear Talon's acquisitions had slowed. It wasn't much - a comms tower, an operations centre, a simple bunkhouse with kitchen and bath facilities and gear storage, a small armoury and workroom - but the flag flew overhead again nonetheless.

"I told you they were independent," Tendaji replied via telepresence from Volskaya Industries. "At least, to a degree. I didn't imagine they'd revolt, though."

Ana nodded, her expression grim. "I can't be sure how it happened, but the woman calling herself Pharah..." She shook her head. "Well. She gave her account, and I have given it to you. I am reasonably convinced she was speaking truthfully, though I doubt completely. There are... some elements of my daughter still in her, and I could always tell when Fareeha was being sincere, and when she was not."

Kamaria laughed bitterly. "So. Dr. O'Deorain is one of her own 'monsters' now. How fitting. I imagine it's Sombra's work - she can't lead, but she can most certainly disrupt better than most." She sat, for a moment, tapping the top of her desk. "If Moira has become subordinate... or, perhaps... more of a peer than a master... that would shift power around substantially. Even after Ziegler's arrival, O'Deorain had been largely setting the agenda, and the rest of them followed her. I imagine that's no longer the case."

"So who's pulling the strings?" Hana Song asked, from her base in Korea.

"Angela had already become a major force on the board, by sheer force of personality. I'd guess her. And Vaswani; O'Deorain seemed almost deferent to her, even then. It wouldn't surprise me to learn that she was in on this coup with Colomar."

"And the others?" Morrison prompted.

"The Weapons are mostly there to fight. They're... terrifyingly good at it. Pharah's there to keep Ziegler happy -"

"I think there's more to her presence than _that_ ," Ana snapped, tartly, surprised at her own reaction.

"Perhaps... and to provide air support in combat. She's worth a few squadrons by herself, now. Ngcobo," she frowned. "Him, I can't say. I don't know him."

"He goes in," Hana mused, "and two months later, there's been a coup, and they're giving away cures for incurable diseases."

"Are you suggesting cause and effect, Hana?" Athena asked. "That he might have gone in... to cause this, somehow?"

"And then been caught, I think, and changed, like the rest," Ana interjected. "Faree -" she corrected herself, anger kept out of her voice, but not out of her expression - " _Pharah_ said they were _all_ there because they wanted to be. But, perhaps... overthrowing O'Deorain was what he intended all along. Foolish of him to try, if that is what happened, but..."

"I would like to think that was his intent," Athena said. "He was a good agent, and had some history of undercover work."

"Maybe he didn't get caught, then," Hana insisted. "Maybe he _was_ changed - but ... if O'Deorain's been brought down... maybe he pulled it off."

"Anyone else would have to be an improvement," Morrison agreed. "O'Deorain's plan was to _perfect_ the world. If Angela and Lena and F... arah just want to 'save' it, as Pharah claimed, then even if their ideas about 'saving' it are are pretty broken..."

"Then we could try to talk to them," Hana interrupted. "I'm not saying it's likely, but maybe, _maybe_ they might be reached."

"I would not be quick to agree, but," Athena begrudged, "it is, if nothing else, a crack. Perhaps that crack could be widened."

Jack nodded, contemplating the possibilities, as Tendaji frowned. "Don't grasp at straws, any of you. If they know what they want, they're willing to do _whatever is needed_ to achieve it. O'Deorain nailed that down in their heads pretty well, I think."

"Pretty funny complaint coming from you," Hana sniped.

"I deny nothing," Kamaria admitted. "How do you think I recognise it?"

\-----

_[St. Petersburg, Russia - Early May, 2078]_

It had been a rainy spring in St. Petersburg, but the sun had finally begun to shine through the windows of Katya Volskaya’s office. 

_If only it could lighten her mood as easily,_ Kamaria thought as she watched the oligarch brood, her eyes not leaving the window overlooking the river Neva and the Admiratevsky Prospekt. 

“And there has been no sign of these... Weapons... you've spoken of?”

Kamaria shook her head. “No. Not since they attacked Jabari’s compound.” She considered that, and then corrected herself. “Not outside of Oasis, at least.” 

There was a soft clicking of metal against metal as Maximilien steepled his fingers, tapping each fingertip back and forth. “We’ve seen very little military activity from their agents or received anything from our more esoteric sources of intelligence. But we _have_ seen the Concordat announced, and we _have_ seen Vishkar continuing their recent spree of development.” He tilted his head slightly, a dry cousin of amusement in his voice. “I thought their promises to stabilize the Leaning Tower of Pisa as part of their historical preservation efforts were quite amusing.” 

“True,” Kamari said reluctantly. “But neither of those involve direct action - and after the initial flurry, both seem to be running without too much involvement from anyone on the board. It's all diplomats and managers." Her face settled into a frown. "Even the Talon forces previously tasked to probe the Omnium’s defenses here in Russia seem to be on their own, just following their last orders. Nothing new.”

Katya turned from the window, giving them both a thoughtful look. “They’ve withdrawn. Militarily, at least.”

“Yes,” Max agreed. “But we don’t know _why._ Have they suffered some kind of setback? A lack of resources? An effort at consolidation? Political fallout from this supposed palace coup?"

Kamaria clucked her tongue as she considered that. “Who knows what Ziegler and Vaswani want, but - Moira did speak about ‘stabilization’ before. It seemed to be her goal, at the time.”

“No,” Katya said firmly. “Everything you have described? They have been _winning._ Even better, they have been winning bloodlessly. You think they may lack resources, omnic? What resources have they needed to _spend?_ ” She turned back to the window, the scowl reflected in the panes of armored glass. “Something fundamental has changed, after the coup d'etat. Perhaps it was a setback... and perhaps not.”

Kamaria stood with a frustrated sigh. “If it’s not consolidation, not some kind of setback... we’re _blind_ , Katya. We don’t know enough to even guess.”

“Particularly with our mutual ‘friend’ out of the picture,” Max noted. “What little we know is almost entirely from her.” 

“She plays her own games,” Katya said acidly. 

“She always has.”

Kamaria couldn’t help but feel skeptical. “Even after becoming one of them?”

Katya laughed, but there was no mirth in it. “From all you have shown me? _Especially_ after becoming one of them.”

“Then what do _you_ think is going on?” Kamaria glanced at Max, wondering if the omnic was as frustrated as she felt. “Please, enlighten us.”

“In this country, there is only one reason an army withdraws in the winter,” Katya said quietly. “Particularly if they stay idle well into the spring.”

The Oligarch turned, her icy blue eyes hard as the Siberian permafrost. 

“They have mustered their strength, and now? Now comes the War.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the twelfth instalment of _Of Gods and Monsters: The Arc of Ascension_. To follow this story, [subscribe to the series via this link](https://archiveofourown.org/series/972024), rather than to the individual works.


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